


The Real Reason Why Bruce Wayne Doesn't Drink

by yoshitakamine



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Jealousy, M/M, two dorks working things out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 07:31:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9481154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoshitakamine/pseuds/yoshitakamine
Summary: Bruce may be a little bit over-dramatic when it comes to relationships. And a tad bit jealous and a whole..lot of other things Clark has to deal with.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I never post my wips but I really wanted to just get something out there for once so voila. A poorly proof-read, fatigue induced, work of fiction. If something doesn't make sense please point it out so we can laugh 2gether. Also it's come to a point where I've no idea what's considered explicit in the full sense of the word (full blown sausage party? mild freaky deaky action?) so I rated it as such just in case (stay safe kids).

_‘Clark I trusted you’ ‘Clark I gave you my all and you betrayed the well-intended sentiment’ ’Clark I love you damn it’_

Nothing seemed to fit, to convey what he currently felt standing against a wall staring right through Clark and his newest conquest. _Smallville prude my ass_. He didn’t seem to be familiar with any good Christian testaments, the God fearing bastard, his hands making their way lower and lower at the backside of some Gotham elite.

_“You shall not commit adultery”_ Bruce repeated the verse in his head, a spiteful look in his sharp eyes. This _wasn’t_ jealousy -he noted- this was blatant flirting on Clark’s side. In front of his eyes… _in his house_. He had the gall to ask him out, and Bruce was stupid enough to go on that first date and fall for him and be this emotional mess- _They were moving to the front door._

“ _Should you find anything_ , this is my number…we’ll be in touch” Clark, always the charmer, smiled and slipped a note in her purse.

God could not help the last Son of Krypton even if he wanted to. Hell hath no fury like a Wayne scorned and this particular one was _fuming_. He sauntered elegantly to him through the crowd and grabbed his forearm, a tight grip that Clark probably couldn’t even feel the sensation of, and whispered something in his ear.

“I don’t want to see your face ever again.”

Clark turned around to look at him, his face pale and his lips trying to form words where words would probably make this worse. Bruce had a reputation of exaggerating and being recklessly over his head sometimes but this…this must’ve taken a whole new shape and form for Clark.

He felt Bruce easing his grip and that’s when he pulled him outside without minding the force used, it was about time he realized he was dating the Man of Steel and not some European model.

“Mind explaining what the hell _that_ was?”

“I’ve nothing to explain to you, you absolute buffoon. You thought dating a billionaire playboy would look good on your CV? Was that it?” Bruce was getting bitter with his words, ridiculously fast.

They had been dating for a few months now, and would go back and forth with both their secret identities and superhero personas alike. The lines were a little more than blurred and Bruce wasn’t entirely convinced his daytime ‘job’ as a billionaire playboy wasn’t the part of him Clark yearned for. It made sense, plenty of sense actually. For someone reveling in the different ways you can husk corn _his_ lifestyle must’ve looked like the perfect opportunity to get a taste of luxurious city life.

“Bruce, I have no idea what you’re talking about-“

“Sure you do. Want me to pull a file on her? I can.”

Oh. _That_. It didn’t take much to make Clark laugh and he _was_ , loudly, to the point Bruce had to throw his drink at him.

“You’re incorrigible.” He spat, and walked up the stairs to the main entrance, thinking socializing would take his mind off of things. People. That was how low he had stooped.

“Bruce. It’s a scoop.” He said, hands fixing his wet hair and shirt. Refreshing. Both Bruce and the drink.

He stopped short on the first step. He got his attention, so he continued even though he hadn’t made move to turn around.

“I’m working on.. on something. Perry’s keeping us on a tight leash, I can’t really do anything about it. Had to use all means possible to get information.” He sheepishly rubbed his nape.

Bruce still hadn’t turned around, but he wasn’t stepping forward either. Clark wasn’t lying, he could use a polygraph, interrogate him, slap the life out him, but he wasn’t.

“You thought…it’d take some dowager from Gotham to pull at my heartstrings? The way _you_ do?”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere Kansas boy.” Bruce turned around, not exactly smiling but not particularly angry either. The sort of limbo he’d leave you in, where he made you believe heaven was within reach, then kick you off to the depths of Tartarus. A delightfully saccharine grin to go with it all too.

“Can you please come back here?”

“Need another drink?” he smirked, a smug look on his face not unlike the one he had when he’d pin Clark down after a rigorous training session. He was proud of every victory, of every advantage, of the way Clark’s eyes would sparkle and give in after every quip. He always welcomed the competitive spirit Bruce always carried,  one of the many things that surprised him about Clark. No complaints, no groaning and no look of disapproval. He’d take up on his every challenge. Truly a man after his own heart.

“You don’t need to throw drinks at me to get me wet, Mr. Wayne.” Clark felt the weight of what he had said in that moment, allowed himself to get suggestive before Bruce actually dropped that drink on him again.

“ _Bold_.” Bruce emphasized, before climbing down the stairs again his hands loosening his tie, Clark’s eyes frantically moving from his face to the tie being undone. No misguided soul could ever escape Bruce Wayne after his hands worked on his tie and shirt buttons. It was a universal rule in some book on hunky billionaires.

There was something in the air around them, where just a few words could create so much tension it’d suffocate them both. Bruce was erotic, there was no doubt about that. Even as Batman, the tight suit accentuating the toned muscles underneath, the way you could focus on just his sharp jaw, everything else hidden by the cowl. Those sinful lips, his deep voice, blue eyes studying you... scrutinizing you, making you feel guilty for secrets you don’t have or keep. And as Bruce Wayne, all that…was in plain sight. It was unfair, no one should be able to lay their hands on him. Not to a façade created by him, not his body not his smile _not anything_.

Clark’s mind was starting to bring back memories…compromising ones, involving Bruce on all fours... his name rolling off his tongue like a mantra, his strong thighs shaking under his touch. He could remember the way his bedroom would smell after each round, the sweat on his body glistening like light illuminated. The thought invaded his senses, want and longing clutching at his heart.

“What are you thinking about Mr. Kent?” he voiced more for himself than Clark, as his hands made way for his loose slacks, that didn’t do much to hide his painfully obvious erection. “Hopefully not about all the sordid ways you could mark my body?” Bruce’s voice was urgent and full of desire and Clark wanted nothing more than to hear him beg in the same tone, albeit a bit less full of himself and full of _him_.

“ _Not at all_.” Had come out a bit more strained than what he had originally intended, but nothing escaped the World’s Greatest Detective either way.

“In any case” his eyes glimmered “Would you like to come in for that drink?”

“After I take care of..” Clark was trying to bashfully adjust himself, seeing as he couldn’t possibly attend the rest of the event in his current state.

“Who said that won’t be taken care of?” Bruce chimed in as the deus ex machina to his predicament, and had more or less already planned out the rest of their evening together. The moment Clark had started zoning out actually, he could only be thinking about two things; number one was the faraway pleas of a civilian in need _and number two_ , the nights Bruce made sure would be unforgettable to _anyone_ , not _just_ Kansas representative over here. Made sure to satisfy both Clark Kent’s innocent idea of lovemaking and Superman’s needs, freeing him of any inhibitions. Clark wouldn’t separate the both, but Bruce knew the man better than himself at times.

“Well I do believe you’re the most graceful host in all of Gotham.” Clark’s warm blue eyes met icy ones in agreement.

“Only when I enjoy my guests’ company Mr. Kent, only then.”


End file.
